“The guilty paid for their crimes,” I said. “Eventually.” I could hear the doubt in my own voice.
“Some were guilty, some innocent,” James replied. “You know that.”
I could not meet his eyes, for he spoke the truth.
“So this is why you are here, isn’t it?” he continued. “You seek an advantage over your enemies and hope that I can supply it … again.”
I had never seen this combative side of James before, and did not know quite how to respond. In the past, he’d been a good-natured fool; now he seemed angry and watchful.
“We want to find out who killed George Breary,” Martha said.
“I thought they had taken a man for that crime,” James said with a cruel smile. “It was your nephew, wasn’t it, Lady Bridget? It is funny how fortunes change so quickly.”
“Will did not kill him,” Martha said. James heard the edge in her voice and looked up.
“No, I don’t imagine he did,” James said, his words barely audible over the noise of the other customers. “That would not be like him at all.”
“Do you know something of Mr. Breary’s death?” I asked.
“That is not what you want to know,” James said. “You want me to betray my mother, to play the Judas.” He paused for a moment, considering his words. “I wonder … If I delivered her into your hands, would that make you Pilate or the Pharisees?”
At that moment the barman appeared with our drinks, and James laughed out loud. “Oh, Lady Bridget, you are as predictable as the sunrise. Let us ply James Hooke with drink, and see if he will betray his mother! You take me for a fool, don’t you? And perhaps I was, but not any more.”
“I just want to see the guilty punished,” I replied. “And Will is not guilty. Tell me what you know.”
“You want me to say that my mother killed him,” James said. “Admit that, and I’ll tell you what I have heard.”
I glanced at Martha, who seemed as confused as I was by this change in James. In the space of two years, he had fallen in love twice, and twice he’d seen his beloved flee the city for fear of her life. He’d lost a father and a child, and so thoroughly disappointed his mother it was a wonder she allowed him to stay in her home. But as I gazed at him I saw something new in his eyes, something of the hardness and cruelty that made Rebecca such a dangerous woman.
“If your mother means to destroy me, I must defend myself,” I replied. “Surely you can understand that.”
James shrugged. “That is not my concern. But if you are looking for Mr. Breary’s murderer, look to your kin, not mine.”
“Tell us what you know, James,” Martha said.
“Open your eyes,” he said at last. “It was your nephew, Joseph. If he didn’t kill Mr. Breary, he had it done.”
“How do you know?” I asked.
“I’ll not give you proof, if that’s what you seek,” James replied. “You’ll have to find that on your own.”
“Tell me how you know,” I said. “You must.”
James sighed and began to speak. “After the Council meeting, Joseph and Mark Preston came to our house. They seemed worried about their plans for the witch-hunt. Mr. Breary had arranged to hire a Witch Finder to replace Joseph. If that happened, Joseph would be in danger of losing his some of his power in the city, not to mention his ability to overwawe the other Aldermen. At least that was his fear.”
“How do you know all this?” I asked.
“When he’s angry he raises his voice,” James replied. “And if you are standing with your ear to the door, you can hear every word.”
“You heard him say he would kill Mr. Breary?” I asked.
“Not in those words. He simply said that he would stop the Witch Finder from coming no matter what the cost. He never said he’d resort to murder, but my mother knew what he meant and tried to talk him out of it. She said Mr. Breary was a citizen and Alderman, not some poor old hag. He had friends who would defend and avenge him.”
“But she did not convince him?”
“Not nearly. Joseph and his man thundered out, angrier than when they came. I know how to end our troubles, was the last thing he said.”
“What did your mother say to that?” Martha asked.
“She said if he went through with his plan, they’d both be ruined. She told him that he was a crack-brain, and that she’d not be brought down by his foolishness. But she said it to his back. If he intended to kill Mr. Breary, there was no stopping him.”
“Do you think Joseph Hodgson killed Mr. Breary?” I asked.